The Dangers of a Dream
by crazy-about-books
Summary: Boromir has a secret that he has told no one. When someone important needs help, is he willing to spill the beans? Even if it could mean eternal embarrassment or scorn? Crack. May make you loose a few brain cells by cause of sickening Mary-Sues. You have been warned. (This was a dream!)


_**Disclaimer:**Me? Own Lord of the Rings? Pshaw, you're kidding yourself. I could never own such a magical piece of fiction_

_**WARNING:**_ This is complete and absolute nonsense. I will understand if you think that it is utterly pointless (because it is:D), but I can't help my dreams. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated. One more thing; it was my over active imagination that dreamt this up (literally) so… oh well. This takes place at an unknown time in Rivendell, in fact it is most definitely a non-existent time. Many details are entered after the dream, but the general idea is the same. Also there WILL be OOCness (as I said it _is _a dream) …so forgive me.

Dangers of a Dream

Boromir was in the Rivendell stables along with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. They had just arrived after a long hard ride and were unsaddling their horses and preparing to groom them. Boromir seemed the most intent on his work, but every so often he would glance up at the entrance as if willing someone to suddenly appear.

Aragorn glanced up and spoke to him, "If you are so worried why do you not go and meet her?

Boromir looked over at him with wide eyes and replied, "You are right I should!"

He made to climb up onto his horse forgetting he had already unsaddled him. Realizing that he would waste what he viewed as precious minutes re-saddling his horse again, Boromir growled and kicked the stall. That soon proved to be a poor idea as a sharp pain radiated from his toes. The other men tactfully ignored the tears of pain in his eyes. Legolas, though, took pity on him and spoke up. "Here my friend, take my horse and meet her." Boromir nodded his gratitude and leaped up onto the horse.

After riding hard for many minutes he saw a cloud of dust ahead signaling that another horse was approaching. Raising his arm and shouting to get the other rider's attention, he pulled up on the reins. The rider passed him before slowing down. The flash of brown hair signaled that it was indeed the person whom he wished to speak to.

"Makara! Makara, it is me, Boromir!" The rider turned around and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Boromir," her voice warm, "I was just wishing to speak to you."

Boromir smiled at her and then on a whim he glanced down at her stirrups and saw that they were exceedingly short. He grinned to himself, his suspicions had been confirmed, and he could tell her. Before he could say anything she spoke, her voice suddenly sounding distressed.

"Oh, Boromir, I need your help. It is so horrible!"

He immediately rode his horse by her side and took her hands in his. He asked her to tell him what was wrong.

"Some men came to my family's house and took the gems, our family heirlooms. We need them; they have been with us forever. It is unfathomable to live without them."

Boromir immediately understood, she had spoken of these precious treasures often and he knew that this was a dreadful loss for her.

"Makara I will to anything to help you get your jewels back, anything to make you happy."

"Oh thank you so much I don't know what I would do without you. Come, I was able to find where the…horrid...men took our gems."

She spurred her horse forward and took off at a gallop and turned around to go back the way she had come. Boromir went after her concerned, yet he felt joy that his suspicions had been confirmed. After a while they arrived at a sheer rock wall. Makara dismounted and turned to Boromir.

"This is the place; this is where they were taken, our gems."

Boromir dismounted as well, taking a quick glance at Makara's stirrups just to make sure he had not been dreaming. He then examined the great wall of rock that stood before them, after a few moments he expressed the question that had formed in his mind since their arrival.

"Where are the men? I thought you said this is where the men and the jewels where."

"The gems and the men _are_ here but not here-here." Replied Makara, thoroughly confusing Boromir.

"But..." she cut him off.

"They're there," She said pointing to the cliff before them.

"Upon the cliff?" asked Boromir wondering why they were down here then.

"Not upon, inside of it!" Makara cried. She appeared to be close to tears.

The sight of her frustration caused Boromir to instantly feel horrible for being so slow to understand. It was unfair to his love and her family.

"Makara, my dear, I am dreadfully sorry. It has been a long day and I do not feel quite as aware as I might have otherwise. But none the less I will not cease in my endeavor to rescue your heir-looms!"

Makara smiled a watery smile and nodded.

"Thank you. So as I was saying they are inside the cliff side. I do not know how they got there but they did. Perhaps they collapsed the entrance; maybe there is another entrance that I was not able to find. But I did find one entrance, only..." She trailed off.

"Only what?" Boromir asked thoroughly excited.

"Only it is only large enough for a ..." she laughed nervously, "... a rabbit."

Boromir fell silent, he was thinking, and thinking hard. He could solve this problem, he knew how, but should he tell her. He personally had no problem against it but would she shun him when she found out. He immediately dismissed that thought; it wasn't for nothing that he loved her. He decided. He would tell her the only secret that no one knew about, the only one that he was truly frightened to share.

"Makara, I know how to get in there. I will... show you how. I don't know how to tell you and if I did you would surely laugh and disregard me and not believe what I have to say. So, that leaves showing you, but… just…." He gave up, trying to explain

Boromir knew she probably thought he was being melodramatic, but he had good reason. He had told no one, not his father, not his brother, Faramir, not even his mother as she was lying on her death bed. He closed his eyes and felt his back curve, his neck shortened so that his head sat comfortably on his shoulders, and he felt fur sprout around his body. His ears reacted to his surroundings. His nose twitched.

Boromir opened his eyes and looked up at Makara for she was now quite a bit taller than him. Her eyes were wide and surprised. Boromir sighed internally; he knew what she was seeing. He had once caught sight of himself and the image had been the source of many sleepless nights. (it was when he had been 12).

Boromir had become...a...  
(Wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it

wait for it)

...bunny rabbit with... (This was the painful part) Boromir was a bunny with butterfly wings.

* * *

He hadn't always known what he was, but by the time he was twelve he _had_ known what this strange form was for a long time. It wasn't what he was that had caused his insomnia, what had scared him was what he actually looked like. His fur was a light grey but had a tinge of green to it; it was just barely visible but there. Luckily while on the plains surrounding Minas Tirith people would simply attribute the shade to the surrounding grass. The wings were simply atrocious. They were three shades of green and speckled with blue and impossible to hide so he generally stayed away from people. Of course he couldn't simply disappear during that time, so a few saw him, but who would believe a just a few people. Although he would have preferred for no one to see him, he couldn't deny that a few was certainly much better than the whole city.

He never had learned where he received this strange ability, and he never dared asked. He shuddered to imagine what the others would think if he had asked if there were any known occurrences of people turning into rabbits. It would not be good at all. His father would question the sanity of his eldest—and Boromir had always striven to be the heir his father wanted—while his brother would worry for him, which would distract him, driving him even farther from their father's graces. So as it was, he did not tell anyone; he did not give them reason to worry. He was Boromir; the elder son and heir, he was Boromir; the elder brother and hero

* * *

These thoughts ran swiftly through his mind as Boromir silently watched Makara came to terms with what she saw. Again he wondered whether she would be disgusted, wary, or (possibly) accepting. He waited. Makara's face went through many emotions. First,wide-eyed shock, then silent confusion, slow acceptance, then finally she smiled.

"Boromir... This... This is wonderful! Now we can get my jewels back and... We can be together forever. I can now tell you my own secret; I too, can change."

To Boromir's astonishment, she then proceeded to change into a rabbit.

Boromir had to admit that her appearance was far worse than his own. Her fur was a hideous light purple while her wings were a vibrant purple and black and her eyes were now brilliant blue. As he stared at this beautiful creature (for that was what she was) he realized that he could understand her. She was so unbelievably happy, she also wanted him to follow her up to the fissure in the rock. He mentally tried to force his disagreed towards her; she should follow him. He hoped this was how to get what he wanted to say across.

It appeared that she got the message because he got the sense of grudging agreement. Soon they had arrived to the fissure. He stopped in front of their goal. He thought-told her that they should find a place to hide and then immediately change. No, he quickly changed his mind; in their forms they would formulate a battle plan telepathically, then they would change. She thought-told him back that she understood.

They hopped into the fissure and Boromir was instantly astounded. Rather than the small cave he had been expecting, they had stepped into a great cavern. The ceiling was so high up, higher, even, than the cliff had seemed. The walls glittered everywhere, they were covered with jewels and gems and he was filled with rapture. Up and down the sides were paths and openings that he assumed led to other caverns.

His attention was brought back to the situation at hand by Makara gently nudging him. They traveled up the paths searching for any sign of the thieves or the stolen possessions. They continued up and up and up, but there was nothing. Finally they reached the last opening. Once again, what he saw made Boromir astounded. This time it was not because of any bright riches, but because of the curious way that this particular place had been formed.

Everywhere there were small indentions about the size of broom closets. But where a door would have been held, there were stalagmites and stalactites which joined in the middle forming bars. All together it looked like they made prison cells. His eyes slowly made their way around these strange structures. About two thirds of the way around the room he froze. Inside one of them was a person!

Immediately he changed back into a human and rushed to the apparent prison. With horror he realized that he recognized the person; it was Kalla!

"Kalla, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice urgent. Behind him he heard a laugh. He turned and saw Makara, but now she was changed; not just back into a human, but her entire appearance: her pale skin was even paler than normal; her hair was a dark, dark brown; and her eyes now had flecks of purple, the same color as her dress and her rabbit form. Her face was twisted into an evil smirk.

"Makara, what-?" he broke off

"Hello, Boromir dear. Surprised, are you? I had hoped you would be, otherwise it would have quite ruined all my fun. Do like the cavern? I designed it myself, if you don't, I hate to disappoint you but you will be staying here for quite some time."

To say Boromir was confused would be an understatement. He had known Makara for a long time. She had always been a wonderful person. She was kind to the poor and the perfect lady, although she wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done. Even better, his father appeared to approve of her and she and his brother approved of each other. Despite all of this she stood before him, radiating enmity.

"You are too noble, Boromir, too gullible." She laughed, "You followed me blindly into a trap, you believed my false pretenses of being the perfect lady. I have known of your 'condition' for a long time. I could not wait for you to put your trust in me. I knew that once you told me of your secret then I would have your full confidence. And now... here you are, with 'dear' Kalla, trapped." As she spoke the word 'dear', her face twisted into an expression of disgust, but soon her it morphed into a cruel smirk. "Even better, you are both doomed for death."

At the mention of Kalla, Boromir glanced her way. Her eyes were wide with concern and fear. As he looked into her eyes he knew that he never truly loved Makara, it was Kalla he loved. Glaring at the woman before him, he reached for the sword at his side. He was eternally grateful that it was where he had left it and was even more grateful that transforming didn't cause him to lose his cloths.

"Makara, this is treason. I am the heir of the Steward of Gondor and I demand that you let Kalla go."

Makara gave a high laugh.

"Go? You think I am going to let her go? Trust me, it's better this way. A lot less heart ache for everyone involved. I'll just have to say that you valiantly fought of the bandits while giving me the time to run. I came back for you, but found no sign. Your father will be heart-broken, and will soon die of grief. Because he is the only son left, Faramir will inherit Stewardship and I will return home, he will feel pity for me and will come to love me. We will marry and be happy."

Boromir blinked in confusion. It sounded as if this entire thing was for his brother.

"Do you mean to tell me that all this is so that my brother will love you? Why didn't you simply try to court him instead of me." Makara gave a laugh as if that was the most ridiculous suggestion.

"Because," she exclaimed, "This way, he will become the Steward as well as my husband."

Boromir struggled to refrain from mentioning that there were still simpler ways of going about things. Such as poisoning him or hiring an assassin. Not that he wanted to die, but it would have made things a lot easier and much less emotionally stressing.

"Alright then, you wanted him to be Steward. What about Kalla? Why is she here?"

"Because." Despite her confident answer, it appeared that she did not know the answer, herself.

"Enough about my diabolical plans. Lord Boromir, it is time to meet your demise."

From outside the small, naturally made prison there came the sound of rocks falling. A wind started up and Makara's dress started to whip furiously and her eyes began to glow. Boromir backed up until his back was to Kalla's prison cell.

"Boromir?" Her voice was small.

"Yes?" I-it's alright, we're together." He could feel her hand fisted into the back of his tunic. He reached behind to grab her hand and squeezed it.

"Yes, we are." But he wasn't ready to give up that easy. He let go of her hand and reached for his sword, if he was to die, he wasn't going down alone.

_Eyes opened. The young girl stretched languidly with a contented smile on her face. She could tell that, for once, she would be able to remember her dream. The details of it swirled on the edges of her consciousness and she was determined that it wouldn't be forgotten. She closed her eyes and tried to bring back the details. As the story unfolded her eyes shot open. Still in her bed, she gave a disbelieving laugh. No. A bunny-rabbit with butterfly wings? She laughed harder. Had her mind really come up with such a thing? And the sudden love Boromir had felt for the other girl—that wasn't even the sort of thing she was interested in. Speaking of interests, why couldn't she have dreamt of the Shire, or the hobbits? She thought back on her dream and couldn't hold back her giggles. Regardless of her disappointment in her brain, she sat up with a smirk. This was a dream worth sharing. She got out her bed and reached for a pen and paper.  
_

_**AU:**_ What in the world short stirrups have to do with anything, I have no idea. As I said it was a dream, and dreams often make no sense what-so-ever. I do have one theory. Boromir, Bunny and Butterfly all start with 'b'. That is all I have to go on sadly. But thank you for suffering through this weird dream for this long. I am curious though, what was the best/worst part in your opinion. Either one works. Leave a review please!


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